Only twelve months ago, I was born

I don’t remember much, of course,

Nothing of the onesies and diapers I’d worn,

Nothing of my teddy or rocking horse.

 

All I know is what I was told,

Like my mother divorced my dad.

At the time, that was considered bold,

But I’m sure that it made me very sad.

 

We moved in with my grandparents then,

Because momma was only sixteen.

Her church insisted she’d committed a sin,

If she’d not left him, what might have been?

 

They made her finish school for her future, you see,

And her mother, my Mema, became mother to me.